


The Art of Drowning

by pasteloblivion



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mermaids, One Shot, Pirates, fairy tale, some homophobic slurs are used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasteloblivion/pseuds/pasteloblivion
Summary: In which Marvin is a pirate sent to walk the plank and Whizzer is a friendly mermaid who saves him.





	The Art of Drowning

From the moment the amber liquid touches his lips, the captain knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been particularly skilled with keeping down his liquor on dry land, much less on a churning ship crowded with dozens of foul-stenched pirates. His mind is swamped with the wounds of both intoxication and nausea, enough so that he’s having some difficulty with thinking. Marvin’s crew surrounds the lower deck, laughing heartily as the accordion plays a merry tune. Beer sloshes messily upon the wooden floor. He frowns. If he’s honest, he doesn’t remember what they’re supposed to be celebrating. Perhaps they’d pillaged a fearsome ship in the early afternoon, and the celebration of their newly-found riches had extended well into the evening.

Despite the sense of warmth that surrounds the festivities, the last thing Marvin feels is joy. Instead, he’s nervous. And perhaps more than a little tipsy. He taps absentmindedly on the chipped table, trying to avoid the thoughts which continue to poke holes in his calm facade. Quite frankly, he’d rather be eaten by a shark than allow these odd feelings to persist. He doesn’t understand them, nor does he want to. He wishes he could live without them, without this strange desire for--

“Shit,” a voice mutters, shaking Marvin from his stupor. 

His first mate appears at the table, spilling much of his beer as he sits in a creaking chair. His expression is a little hard to read; something between a scowl and a smirk. He eyes Marvin cautiously before speaking, as if assessing the mood of his superior. “You’re lookin’ pretty pissed off, captain.”

“I’m not,” Marvin shrugs, raising his empty mug. He ignores a fresh wave of nausea, focusing instead on the somewhat annoyed face of his friend.

His first mate scoffs. “Not sure if I believe that.”

“Seasickness,” Marvin mumbles, mentally slapping himself for the weak excuse. A seasick pirate? Still, he prefers the anticlimactic lie over the truth behind his mood. How does he tell someone that drinking has become a gateway to a series of feelings he’s never felt before? That when intoxicated, his most intimate thoughts wander not to his wife, but to his odd attraction towards men? How can he say that these thoughts have started to migrate into sobriety, too? How can he say these things, knowing damn well that nobody on this ship would listen to a word of it without feeling positively disgusted?

There’s a brief pause, and Marvin can tell that his shipmate doesn’t quite believe the lie. “In my six years on this ship, not once have I seen you get sick.”

“What, got something to say, John?” Marvin barks, daring the man to challenge his word. His tone must come off as offensive, because John’s expression suddenly hardens.  
He sighs, handing the captain his mug. “Yeah, you need another drink.”

\---

The night passes in a haze of liquor, salty air, and laughter. Surprisingly, the wave of nausea passes through Marvin without a struggle, and he’s managed to keep nearly every drop of alcohol in his system. His buzz is strong enough to send even the most hardened of drinkers into a state of incoherency. The music has gotten notably worse and the stench of sweat and booze has drifted well-beyond the deck, yet Marvin refuses to let it affect his mood. It’s such a sharp contrast to how uncouth he felt just hours ago, he’s unsure of whether or not time is passing properly-- it feels like it’s been years since he last felt low. He’s swaying comfortably in his chair, grinning from ear-to-ear as John recalls the time he pillaged eight ships in one week. Truthfully, Marvin’s mind is already occupied. The strange feelings continue to blur his thoughts, but… fuck it. For once in his life, he embraces them. Nothing could kill the unfiltered sense of freedom that fills his chest.

“—And the captain wept! Kinda funny, actually, how such a brave man crumpled over losing a pathetic ship,” John relays, emphasizing his words with a tone of mock sympathy. “I had to put a bullet through his skull to shut him up!”

Marvin laughs, leaning in to catch a better glimpse of his friend. His words tangle like fishing hooks as he speaks. “C-Christ, John! You’re… pretty fuckin’ r-ruthless…”  
John smirks, which makes Marvin’s heart pound as if it’s a drum. “And yet somehow, I still ain’t the captain.”

“What’s that s’posed to m-mean?” Marvin shoots, slurring. Ordinarily, he feels nothing but respect for his first mate. Yet here he is, sitting beneath the moonlight, scarily aware of how spiteful John has been recently. It makes him rethink his choice of first mate.

“Oh, nothin’.” John’s expression reverts back to annoyance. “Anythin’ from your wife?”

Marvin grimances. “God, no. I’d rather d-die than write to Trina.” 

Six months at sea, and he hasn’t thought of his family once. It’s not that he hates his wife, quite unlike the majority of his crew, but he supposes that a small part of him has always known that he doesn’t love Trina the way that most men would. He’d done everything right-- gave her everything she could possibly want, held her close, listened to what she had to say-- yet one thing was missing: passion. Simply put, he had no complex feelings for his wife. There was never a spark, never a source of passion in their marriage. Even when she’d given birth to Jason, the culmination of his pride and joy, he’d felt nothing.

Marvin sighs, sipping his beer. Even drunk, he knows that this is worthless. Perhaps if Trina were a man, his marriage wouldn’t be so affectionless, so devoid of emotion. All he wants is to love something, to feel his heart leap with joy at the very mention of someone’s name.

“I thought you two were doin’ well,” John hums, accusation in his eyes.

“Guess not,” Marvin laughs. He then pauses, thinking. His next sentence comes out as an airy stutter, but it might as well be a scream, based on the reaction it receives. “Honestly, she’s… not exactly what I want, if y’know what I mean.”

“I don’t. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

In his mind, execution bells start to ring. All at once, Marvin realizes three things about himself: he’s gay, he drank too much, and he’s fucked. He knows he shouldn’t say this, knows that he’s signing his own death certificate, but Marvin can’t stop himself from blurting out “She’s a woman, John.” He drops his mug, clamping a shaking hand to his lips.

For a few seconds, it’s as if the world falls still. John gapes at him. His eyes bore holes into Marvin’s, his expression brimming with disgust. Marvin can no longer hear the surrounding chatter; all that exists in this moment is the hatred in his first mate’s eyes and the quickened thrum of his own heartbeat. After a moment, John’s mood seems to change instantly. The same malicious smirk from the beginning of the night reappears.

John stands up, feigning shock. His shout echoes throughout the deck. “What’s that, captain? Did you just tell me you’re a faggot?”

The celebration comes to an instant halt. Every man stops, mug half-raised to his lips. Dozens of eyes fall upon him, and Marvin lets out a choked gasp. He stands up slowly, afraid that if he makes any sudden movements, he’ll have a sword in his throat in a matter of seconds. “T-that’s bullshit!” he stutters, trying to defend himself.

“Is that so?” John laughs, turning to face the crew. “Tell me, men. For a captain, would you rather have a sniveling queer who continues to lie to your faces, or an honest man who’s willing to rid the ship of such a nuisance?”

Marvin freezes. “Rid?”

John’s grotesque smirk widens. “Yes, rid. I, for one, say that we reclaim this vessel from it’s disgusting owner through force. I say that we make our dear captain walk the plank!”

To say that all hell breaks loose would be an understatement. As John makes his announcement, the atmosphere of the ship becomes pure, unfiltered rage towards Marvin. Several cheers fill the air. A legion of drunken, homophobic men, his crew-- is pitted against him in a matter of seconds. He feels a pair of arms yank him towards the railing, many other men trailing close behind. Marvin’s mind begins to shut down. He doesn’t think about his sexuality, or the contempt he feels for his wife. Instead, he’s momentarily bludgeoned with thoughts of betrayal. Sure, he’s always known John to be a bit jealous of his title, but to completely break his trust and do something like this? He never thought he’d see the day.

As he’s led to the spot where he’ll soon die, his mind reverts back to it’s typical, anxious self. It occurs to him that he’ll never see his family again. Though Marvin’s never been the particularly religious type, he silently mumbles a prayer, the words catching in his throat before they can reach his tongue. He hopes that Trina finds another husband, one that supports her in the ways that Marvin cannot. He hopes that Jason lives his life to the fullest. He hopes that neither will remember his bad qualities over his good, and that his memory will be carried through their love, not their stoic regrets.

“Move!” his first mate shouts, shoving Marvin haphazardly towards the plank. The thin wood buckles under his weight, as if threatening to end it all at any moment. Though he’s facing the ship’s interior, he can feel the waves churning wrathfully beneath it, and with every few seconds comes a new threat to keeping his balance. One wrong move, and he’ll fall into the ocean’s unforgiving embrace without so much as a final word. Marvin shudders, tears of anger filling his vision. He hates the lack of guilt that shines so evidently on his first mate’s face. He’s on his knees. A sword is soon pinned against his throat, lest he try to escape.

His crew leers at him, relentless laughter filling the deck. He closes his eyes, inhaling the salty breeze. Any ounce of respect they once held for their captain is gone, replaced suddenly with a bigoted haze. They care not for the cunning leadership he’s shown in the past, but rather which gender he finds himself drawn to. They spit in the name of equality, considering themselves above the likes of such lowly attraction. Even his first mate, the man he’d chosen to support the crew through thick and thin, approaches him with newly-found betrayal. By targeting their captain-- the one man aboard who isn’t enveloped by his own hatred-- they ultimately validate their own, meaningless lives. Marvin finds himself contemplating this as the sword digs uncomfortably into his neck, not quite drawing blood.

John can hardly contain his glee. “Any last words, faggot?”

Marvin opens his eyes, focusing on the man in front of him. His expression is nothing short of joyous, as if he simply can’t wait to murder the man who had trusted him most. Inexplicably, his heartbreak dissipates. Anger floods his veins. Marvin is overcome with such an overwhelming sense of spite, he knows exactly what he wants to say to his first mate.  
Marvin shivers, exhaling the salty air he’s grown to love throughout past voyages for the last time. “Suck a dick, John.”

“Bad choice,” John sneers, throwing the sword behind him with a sad clang.

And with that, Marvin is pushed. The plank gives one final, depressing shake as his weight is removed, the sensation of falling soon coursing through his body. His hint of bravery dies as suddenly as it was spawned. If he were to say that his fall is graceful, that he laughs in the face of death as he resigns himself to fate, he would be lying. Mostly, his plummet consists of screaming. The air from his lungs is stolen as he crashes unceremoniously into the murky waves.

His vision quickly declines into a blurred streak as he fights for air. His limbs flail uselessly around him, desperately trying to grab hold of something that simply doesn’t exist. He’s sinking, sinking into the unknown legions of blue. His lungs seem to crush themselves; he can’t breathe. Black dots begin to invade his sight. His heart clamors in his chest as if to take a final bow, to remind him that he indeed once lived and breathed without the weight that’s crashing into his lungs. This goes on for what feels like decades, the ocean laughing airily at his struggle for breath. Eventually, his limbs tire and he’s unable to continue fighting. He falls eerily still, oxygen-deprived brain unable to process his actions. The pain that grips his throat lessens, and the last thing he sees before his vision goes blank is what appears to be a stunning flash of blue scales.

—

When Marvin drifts back into consciousness, he’s rather surprised to discover that he’s still alive. Broken, admittedly, but somehow breathing. A headache sweeps incessantly through his skull. His lungs inhale almost greedily, as if to make up for the oxygen he lost. He tries to assess what he’s capable of doing. His fingers curl without issue when he attempts to move them, and he’s able to let out a choked cough. There's a moment of difficulty that comes with opening his eyes, which feel like lead atop his already-throbbing features. Slowly, fragmented pieces of the world begin to blend together, and Marvin is made uncomfortably aware of his surroundings.

He’s on a beach, for starters. Based on the sky’s warm, citrus hue, he assumes that several hours have passed since his midnight drowning. He frowns. The ship was miles away from the nearest shore when he was pushed. How did he get here? More importantly, where the hell is ‘here’? Despite the startling thought, he continues to observe. The sand beneath him is cold; the rising sun hasn’t quite crossed the land. Other than the gentle lapping of waves, the water’s edge is eerily silent. He’s facing opposite of the waterfront, staring instead into what appears to be a forest. He watches a grove of palm trees, emerald leaves swaying in the early morning wind. Admittedly, the scene is gorgeous. If he weren’t so terrified, perhaps he’d be in awe. With a huff, Marvin steadily eases himself into a sitting position.

From behind him, a warm voice interrupts his movement. “Finally! I was starting to think that you wouldn’t wake up, sailor.”

The scream that escapes Marvin’s lips is admittedly priceless. The shrill sound echoes beyond the water’s edge, becoming jagged as he forces his aching body to face the voice. Immediately, his gaze his held by a man in the water, who smirks Marvin with a raised brow. His brown eyes light up with humor as he absentmindedly combs a set of tanned fingers through his hair. He waits for the pirate’s outburst to come to an end, but that moment doesn’t happen naturally. Eventually, he rolls his eyes.

“Are you done yet?”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Marvin shouts, tone nothing short of panicked as a multitude of thoughts race through his head. Why is there a hot stranger in the water? Where the hell is he? Why does he have an urge to touch his hair?

The stranger scoffs. “Well, if you could shut up for a few seconds, I’d probably tell you.”

Abruptly, Marvin stops screaming. He clenches his fists, fear still in his eyes. Once he’s standing, he shuffles several feet back from the shore.

“Thank you. Anyway, I’m Whizzer. Also known as the man who saved your ass from drowning,” the man states, making no attempt to move from his spot in the water.  
“W-wait, what? That was you?”

Whizzer hums in confirmation. “Mhm. So, sailor, can I ask what were you doing in the middle of the ocean? Something tells me it wasn’t your choice.” 

“As if I’d tell you,” Marvin exhales, looking Whizzer up and down. He has to admit, there’s something interesting about the man, and it’s not just how attractive he is. Despite his distrust, Marvin can’t help but yearn to know more about him.

He pouts mockingly. “Aw, what’s wrong with telling me?”

“I don’t even know you!”

“Actually, you kinda do,” Whizzer begins, a devious smile tracing his lips. “I told you my name. Which is more than I can say for you, speaking of which.”

Marvin groans. “Why do you care?”

“Shit, I wasn’t aware that first names were too intimate to share with others.”

Marvin hesitates. Sarcastic as he is, Whizzer has a point. Why does Marvin feel so terrified about the prospect of opening up? The man saved him, for Christ’s sake! After a moment of silence, his voice fills the empty air. “I’m Marvin.”

Whizzer laughs, which makes Marvin’s heart pound once more. “That’s a nice name, Marvin,” he says, genuine warmth in his tone.

Slightly flustered by the compliment, Marvin changes the topic. “Where am I?”

“A beach,” Whizzer deadpans, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fucking hilarious. Seriously, where the hell did you bring me?”

“Sorry that this shore doesn’t meet your standards, Mr. I-don’t-care-that-I-could’ve-died, but I was a little busy dragging you to dry land to take note of the exact location.”

“So what you’re saying,” Marvin hisses, “is that we’re lost?”

Whizzer shrugs, uncaring. “Better than being dead, sailor.”

A sound of contempt escapes Marvin’s throat. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re not the first person to say that, y’know,” Whizzer replies, splashing contently at an oncoming wave. It then occurs to Marvin that Whizzer hasn’t moved from the sea since this conversation started. It’s a bit odd, to say the least.

“You don’t have to stay in the water all day,” he huffs, noting the shocked expression that his words leave.

“I, uh-- I like it here,” Whizzer laughs nervously, speaking too quickly.

Marvin narrows his eyes. “Seriously, just come ashore.”

Whizzer’s tone is now notably panicked. “No, thank you.” 

“Why not?”

Whizzer doesn’t reply, and Marvin’s curiosity begins to swell. Before the conversation turned towards the water, the man was the epitome of confidence. Now, he’s practically quivering. He continues to stare, silently pleading with Marvin. For a split second, he almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t want to break his trust, but his interest is at a maximum. He needs to know what’s stopping Whizzer. What if it’s something dangerous? With the thought of his new friend being harmed, any hesitance within him disappears, and Marvin starts to walk towards the shore.

Whizzer’s eyes widen, a petrified stare inhabiting his features. “Sailor, don’t--”

Before he can finish his sentence, Marvin’s feet touch the water. He raises an eyebrow towards Whizzer, who responds only with an anxious gulp. Without thinking, he extends an arm to the brown-eyed man. “C’mon, it’s not so hard. Just follow me out.”

Whizzer takes his hand, but still doesn’t move. The look on his face becomes notably sadder as his lips fall into a frown, soon followed by the darkening of his eyes. “I-I can’t.”

Ignoring the fact that his heartbeat pounds yet again at the feeling of Whizzer’s hand in his own, Marvin repeats his question from only minutes ago. “Why not?”

“You’ll be scared if I tell you,” Whizzer exhales, voice trailing off.

A knot begins to tug at Marvin’s stomach. “Whizzer, what the hell are you talking about? Obviously, I was pretty apprehensive at first, but from what you’ve said, you’re not anything to be afraid of!” he says, wanting desperately to know what’s plaguing his attractive stranger. “I know we just met, but you can trust me.” As the words leave his mouth, he realizes how much has changed throughout the course of this conversation. What started as a relatively annoyed exchange between the two has quickly become something else, something softer. It scares him, just how fast he’s started to trust a man he knows almost nothing about. Even more so, he hopes that Whizzer trusts him in return.

“People have run off in the past,” Whizzer counters, though his discomfort seems to be easing. He holds Marvin’s hand as if it’s his saving grace. “I-I don’t wanna freak you out, sailor.”

Marvin sighs. “I’m not those people! I swear wouldn’t run away. If there’s something wrong, I need to know now.”

“No, no,” his friend shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong, exactly, but… it can be a little surprising, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Marvin queries, gently folding his other hand atop Whizzer’s palm.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Positive,” Marvin confirms.

Whizzer hesitantly takes back his hand, frowning as he gestures to the waves churning beneath him. “I don’t— please don’t get scared,” he pleads, eyes brimming with anxiety.

Marvin offers him a smile. “I swear that I won’t.”

There’s a shaky, somewhat collective inhale as Whizzer leans backwards, submerging his face in the sea. Before Marvin can question the strange action, he raises the lower half of his body. Words die in Marvin’s throat as he stares not at a pair of legs, but the most magnificent tail he’s ever seen. A kaleidoscope of purples and blues glisten in the haze of the morning sun, outshining the countless illustrations he’d seen in books as a child. He’s reminded of the fascination with fantasy he’d lost over the hardening years, and the thrill that clouds his thoughts is undeniable. A mermaid!

After a few moments, he watches the tail fall back into the waves. Whizzer’s face resurfaces. His expression is visibly flustered, though indeed no longer terrified. He gives Marvin an uneasy smile, which is immediately returned with a grin of his own.

“Whizzer, that was-- holy shit, I just...” Marvin starts, stumbling over his words as he tries to accurately convey how wonderful that was. His new friend is a mermaid. A mermaid saved him from drowning! He doesn’t know where to begin, how to express his intrigue.

The thought of leaving exits his mind completely.

Whizzer laughs, the stress in his shoulders disappearing. “Thank you, sailor.”

Fragmented sentences fire from Marvin’s mouth like bullets, excitement filling his tone. “You gotta-- well, it’d be great if you could-- would you please--” 

“Slow down, Marv,” Whizzer says, playfully splashing the pirate with an oncoming wave. “You’re talking so fast, the speed of light is a little jealous.”

Blushing, Marvin takes a step back. His words become slower. “Yeah, sorry. Would you, uh, tell me what it’s like?”

There’s a brief pause before Whizzer speaks, though his voice is notably softer when he does so. “Absolutely, sailor.”

\---

The unlikely pair talks for hours. The morning soon stretches into a muggy afternoon, and the afternoon gives way to a magnificent evening. Before they know it, the sky is filled with a legion of stars, pale moonlight drifting through the quiet beach. Marvin sits centimeters away from the waterfront, cross-legged and holding Whizzer’s hand in his own once more. Hours upon hours of conversation, he muses to himself, and he’s still enamored by the man in front of him, completely intrigued by everything he has to say. He’d like nothing more than to sit here for the rest of his days, exchanging stories and laughing with his new friend.

Based on the spark in his eyes, he assumes that Whizzer feels something similar. He tells Marvin everything he can think of, sharing stories about the underwater society that even Marvin’s most intricate fantasies couldn’t compare to. He talks of humans who’ve run away in fear after being saved from similar drownings, and how Marvin is the first to stay. There are mentions of domestic lifestyle, of coral homes with pleasant neighbors and kingdoms lined by seashell streets, all of which amaze the sailor to no end. Once Whizzer runs out of things to say, a comfortable silence comes and goes, which leads into a question that startles the pirate.

“Tell me,” he starts, tracing a finger over Marvin’s hand. “Do you like it up there?”

“Up where?”

Whizzer scoffs. “Above the water, sailor.”

Marvin falters, contemplating the existence that he’s lived thus far. He’s married a woman he doesn’t love, raised a son who resents him, made a dishonest living as a pirate, and found himself betrayed by his first mate after discovering a part of himself he hadn't known existed. Perhaps not the greatest life ever lived. “I guess not.”

He soon opens up about everything, from the way he trusted his first mate to how he felt nothing at his wedding, to which Whizzer gives his full attention. He doesn’t judge Marvin’s past or laugh at his mistakes, but instead listens to his tired stories with respect. He comforts, makes the sailor laugh whenever needed, and continues to hold his hand in a gesture of support. By the end of his rant, Marvin’s heart is beating so forcefully, he’s once again sure he’ll faint. It’s only the steadiness of Whizzer’s voice that manages to calm him.

“I grew up on fairytales where everyone is given an ending, where good triumphs over evil and ‘happily ever after’ is real, y’know? And I suppose a part of me always thought that it’d all work out that way in the real world, too. But it just… didn’t, and now I’m realizing how stupid those thoughts were,” he finishes his final thoughts, a sad smile on his lips.

Whizzer lowers his gaze. “Don’t say that, sailor. You deserve a happy ending, and you still have plenty of time to find one.”

Another sad laugh. “Let’s face it, I’m out of time. How do I find an ending when there’s nowhere else to look? Life on land brought me nowhere, and it’s not like I can start over.”

The mermaid inches closer, practically falling into the sailor’s lap. “It’s not nowhere. Life on land brought you here, Marvin.”

“And what’s so great about here?” Marvin scoffs.

Whizzer offers him another smile, a quick squeeze of his hand. “You don’t have to be alone anymore, sailor. You have me.”

His pulse races once more. “Whizzer, I don’t--”

“Listen, I know it seems hopeless, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“I can’t stay here forever, Whizzer! This island is abandoned, not to mention the fact that you can’t actually visit dry land,” Marvin argues.

Another spout of silence. “It wouldn’t be here, sailor.”

Marvin’s eyes widen as he begins to realize what the mermaid is implying. A life under the sea with a person he’s grown to care about, an escape from the cards he’d be dealt by fate. A chance to explore the kind of love he’d never had on land, to spend the rest of his days in happiness. A future that seems too good to be true. “Jesus, don’t make jokes like that.”

Whizzer holds Marvin’s face in his palms, tucking a stray strand of hair behind the pirate’s ear. His words come out as a gentle whisper. “I’m not kidding, Marv! Screw the surface, we can find a happy ending together.”

“I couldn’t survive underwater,” Marvin points out, voice trailing off as his heart thuds in his chest. He’s now nose-to-nose with Whizzer, his vision filled by the mermaid’s brown eyes. 

He can’t imagine this new life. The thrill of waking up next to the epitome of love each morning is a fate he’s never so much as considered, much less indulged in. Despite his disbelief, however, he realizes just how badly he wants this. He craves the feeling of caring for someone, of living on a lover’s shoulder, of forgetting all the times he’s been wronged and focusing on what’s right in the world. And as far as he can tell, the only right he sees is an easygoing future with a certain mermaid.

A shallow breath. “Did your fairytales explain what happens when a mermaid kisses a human, sailor?”

“Show me,” Marvin says simply, breath hitching as his eyes close and their lips finally meet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This took me over a month to write due to procrastination, and I'm beyond thrilled that it's finally done. As always, feedback is appreciated!


End file.
